


You Light My Sky

by awarrington



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alien Planet, Aliens Made Them Do It, Auroras, Christmas, First Time, Fluff, Holidays, K/S Advent Calendar, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-27
Updated: 2013-12-27
Packaged: 2018-01-06 09:56:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1105434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awarrington/pseuds/awarrington
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a tough mission, Kirk is having trouble dealing with the loss of some of his crew. But Spock has a plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Light My Sky

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the LiveJournal K/S Advent. With huge thanks to my co-mod and friend, arminaa for being so fun to work with on this fest, and for generally being an awesome person! ♥

Outside Briefing Room 1, Kirk paused before the door sensor kicked in. Pulling his shoulders back, he took a deep breath to steel himself, ignoring his exhaustion after yet another sleepless night – one of many since they had departed planet M-113. A moment later, he strode into the room, padd in hand and all smiles, noting almost all his senior staff were already present. The sight made him glance up at the wall chrono and with inward relief confirmed he wasn’t late – he still had three minutes to spare. Spock was the only one to acknowledge his presence, catching his eyes and giving a slight nod of his head. The rest of his team continued chatting, or were focused on their own padds in front of them, and at the far end of the table, it looked to him like Sulu and Chekov were playing some sort of computer game together. _Genius geeks_. He smiled. That pretty much summed up his awesome crew.

Dropping his padd onto the table with a clatter he fetched a coffee from the synthesizer – his third that morning – and then took his place next to his First Officer. As he sat down and took a sip, some of the tension he was carrying leeched out of his body.

“Good morning Captain.” There was a pause as Spock tilted his head to one side, silently surveying his face. “You appear fatigued,” he said after a beat.

He could always count on Spock to give him unvarnished feedback. “Eh, sleep’s overrated,” he said dismissively. Picking up his padd, he flicked to the StarFleet feed in the hope Spock would take the hint and drop the subject. No such luck.

“Your attempt to use humor as a deflection may be successful on Humans...” 

Kirk looked up and could see concern in the dark, somber eyes. He gave a wry smile. “But not on you?”

Spock raised an eyebrow, as if to say, _‘You are completely transparent to me’_ , the action making Kirk smile.

“As First Officer my recommendation is that you speak with Dr. McCoy regarding your insomnia.”

A recommendation they both knew he would follow only as a last resort. “And your recommendation as Spock?”

Spock glanced down for a moment at his hands clasped on the table, before meeting Kirk’s eyes. “As your _friend,_ ” he said quietly enough not to be overheard, “I am available at any time should you be willing to allow me to assist with your burden.”

Kirk felt himself flush, not in embarrassment but in pleasure. He could count the times on the fingers of one hand that Spock alluded to their friendship – something he was aware didn’t come easily to the Vulcan. Unable to hold the steady gaze, he ducked his head. “Thanks.” Feeling Spock’s eyes lingering on him, he looked up and smiled. “Thanks,” he said again. “I appreciate it.”

Spock nodded once, apparently satisfied.

“Morning Jim,” McCoy said as he strode into the briefing room, stopping in front of Kirk. “Christ on a bike, Jim, you look like shit. Did you sleep last night _at all_?”

Kirk looked up at him and smirked. “Pot, kettle, black, Bones! You’re not looking so hot yourself – run out of hair inhibitor in the dispensary?”

The doctor scowled as he ran his hand over his prominent beard shadow. “I was up half the night dealing with one of Scotty’s engineers who got careless with some plasma coolant. The man’s lucky to be alive to see this Christmas. I need a coffee.”

Kirk looked across at his chief engineer with raised eyebrows.

“Sorry sir, there’s a wee report’s just been submitted to you by the gamma watch duty engineer.”

“How is he?” Kirk wondered aloud as he flicked to his inbox and found the report in the queue timed from a few minutes earlier.

“He’s right as rain, sir, thanks to the doc. Though the dunderheed will wish he’d never been born by the time I’m through with him!”

Kirk grinned, imagining Scotty’s wrath. Everyone knew he ran a tight ship in engineering and woe betide anyone who didn’t meet the chief’s exacting standards.

“Just don’t kill him, after all the work I did to patch him up,” McCoy said, taking his seat, reverently cradling his black coffee as though it were liquid gold.

Kirk began his weekly senior staff briefing, as always with each head reporting in on any matters that might impact other departmental areas. Spock had pointed out early on in their mission that they could achieve the same end with written reports. But Kirk had set a precedent during the Narada battle of getting his team together to brain-storm ideas and solve problems, which he chose to keep going. He noticed that not only were those problems resolved faster, and elicited greater cross-departmental co-ordination, it helped him get to know his team better. He also found that a face-to-face delivery was invariably more nuanced than a written brief, enabling him to pick up on non-verbal cues with deeper questioning. The meetings were by their nature, informal, but his one rule was that they were never allowed to last more than an hour.

Spock, to his credit, had later conceded over a game of chess, that these meetings led to greater efficiencies in the day-to-day running of the ship and were therefore logical. Kirk chalked up that minor victory – it was rare that Spock acknowledged he was wrong, not because he was too proud to, but because he rarely was. It was one of his many qualities that led to Kirk to openly acknowledge to McCoy that he thought Spock the best First Officer in the fleet, earning a pithy retort from the good doctor. The memory made him smile inwardly. He also thought Spock the _sexiest_ First Officer – though he had the good sense to keep _that_ one to himself.

Kirk stopped that train of thought dead – now was not the time to be musing about _that_.

 _Focus. Work._ God, he could really do with some sleep maybe with the help of one of Bones’ little red knock-out pills. Or maybe a stimulant stronger than caffeine.

Fifty minutes later, he leaned back in his seat, satisfied – they’d had several productive discussions. “Any other business?” he asked.

“It is the holiday season soon, sir,” Chekov said, glancing around the table. He turned pale blue eyes on Kirk and shrugged, smiling. “Just saying.”

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that – do you have any specific ideas?” Kirk asked as he stood up and went to the synthesizer for more coffee.

“Not specific, no sir. But I think we should do something fun - we’ve had very sad time.”

Kirk nodded in agreement. “Yeah, we’ve had a crappy couple of months,” understatement of the year, he thought. “You’re right – we could do with lightening the mood around here. We could maybe do something with a holidays theme.”

McCoy, who was about to take a sip of his third coffee, halted the cup in mid-air and scowled at him. “Dear god, please tell me you’re not suggesting we decorate the ship in metallic red, green and gold garlands – or worse, hang fake mistletoe everywhere.”

Kirk grinned as the doctor visibly shuddered. “Fake mistletoe? Now _there’s_ an idea I could get behind!”

“No!” McCoy said emphatically, looking more than slightly appalled. “Just…no!”

Ignoring the doctor’s outburst, Spock asked, “I have noted that green, red and gold are closely associated with the season. What is the significance of those colors?”

“Gold is the color of sun and fire,” Sulu said, “both important during dark winters in the northern hemisphere.”

“And,” Chekov said, “one of the three wise men – Kaspar – brought gold for the Jesus baby. He was from Russia,” he added. 

Kirk grinned at the aside and at the fact that, at this point in the mission, when they were all used the chief navigator’s claims, no-one questioned him.

“From my own continent,” Uhura said, “the ancient Egyptians used to bring palm branches into their house during the mid-winter festivals, which may explain the green element.”

“And the Romans exchanged evergreen branches during January as a sign of good luck,” Giotto, the security chief added.

“Aye, and holly, ivy and mistletoe are plants traditionally associated with Christmas in Scotland and elsewhere in Europe and north America, as they’re still in bloom in mid-winter,” Scotty chimed in. “That probably predates Christianity.”

Spock nodded. “The red?”

“Holly berries?” the engineer said, more as a question.

“Red is the color of Bishops robes,” McCoy answered, “which would have been worn by St. Nicholas – a precursor to the traditional Santa outfit.”

“Fascinating!” Spock said with a raised eyebrow that Kirk recognized was a sign of his surprise. “I had not realized the tradition goes back to Earth’s antiquity.”

“Where did you pick up that bit of trivia, Bones?” Kirk asked, genuinely curious.

The doctor shrugged. “I helped Jojo with a school project a few years back.”

“Right, so where are we on doing something to celebrate the holidays?” Kirk asked, enjoying the history lesson, but mindful of the time.

“Captain,” said Uhura, learning forward. “You said earlier you’ve been thinking about the fact the holiday season’s coming up. Do you have anything in mind?”

Kirk recognized that was Uhura’s smart way of identifying what the boundaries were. “Nothing specific. Something low-key – I’m open to suggestions.”

“How about a party?” Sulu suggested.

Scotty perked up. “Now _that’s_ something I’d be up for, laddie!”

Kirk shook his head, watching the engineer’s face fall. “It’s only been six weeks since the Halloween party.”

“So?” Scotty said. “Why can’t we have another?”

Kirk looked at Spock to explain since it was part of an on-going discussion the two of them were having with Pike, giving his First Officer a subtle nod to go ahead. Spock, as always completely in tune with his Captain, understood the silent instruction.

“Because it may cause us reputational damage,” Spock answered.

“Rep…what?” Scott asked with a frown.

“The mean age of crewmembers on the _Enterprise_ is fifteen point seven years less than on other constitution-class starships,” Spock replied. “As a result, the perception among some in StarFleet, including a number of admirals, is that—”

“—we’re frivolous and unprofessional,” McCoy cut in, aware of Pike’s concerns from an off-the-record disclosure to him by Kirk, which thoroughly pissed the doctor off.

The captain threw his friend a dirty look. While he trusted his senior team implicitly, he didn’t want them to feel undermined by stupid and baseless gossip. “No-one’s said that,” he emphasized, looking at the chagrined faces around the table. “We have a _great_ record – a higher success rate with missions than any other ship, which we can be proud of.” The now-familiar ache settled in his chest as he remembered their last, disastrous mission and the crewmembers they’d lost. “But some people have this perception of us – which is completely unwarranted – that…” Recalling Pike’s words made him feel as angry as he knew McCoy was. “They call us the _Party Crew_ , which is completely unfair, and I’ve done my best to defend us.”

“Who’s saying that?” Uhura asked, sitting tensely upright, her eyes flashing.

“Not Admiral Pike,” he was quick to say. “He’s the one who filled me in and is doing his best to watch our backs. But you all know my appointment wasn’t a unanimous decision.” He didn’t need to say any more – they were a bright group and would figure out who was behind the smears.

“Bloody bunch of bureaucratic desk-flyers,” Scotty mumbled.

McCoy nodded. “Half of them haven’t even commanded a starship. Where do they get off—”

“Whatever our _private_ thoughts,” Kirk stressed, looking directly at the doctor, needing to nip any rebellion in the bud, “they are senior officers in StarFleet and I don’t want to hear anyone bad-mouthing them.”

There was a tense silence as the two men stared at each other. Bones, his closest friend, had taken the criticism personally when he’d shared it with the doctor over a glass of bourbon three nights earlier. Fiercely loyal, the doctor saw it as a disparagement of Kirk’s command style. McCoy had tried to persuade him to share it with his senior team right away, but he’d resisted. He’d decided it would be better to wait for the right time rather than make some big announcement which would likely lead to the kind of insubordinate, but well-meaning comments he’d just witnessed. Plus he’d wanted to give the matter some thought and have a few ideas on how they could change that perception before he said anything. So much for doing things on the fly. He sighed inwardly. 

It took a few seconds, but McCoy finally subsided. “Fine. But you can’t stop me thinking what I want to think.”

“No,” Kirk agreed. “I’m just ordering you not to say those thoughts out loud.” He hated getting officious with McCoy but sometimes it was necessary.

“While a party on board is unwise in the current political climate,” Spock said, breaking the tension, “ _Enterprise_ personnel are due shoreleave.”

Kirk turned to Spock and grinned – his First Officer, as he so often did, surprising him. “Right! We haven’t had shoreleave for over four months. I think I can swing a couple of days. Any ideas of planets that lie in the general direction of Gamma Niobe that would be appropriate?”

As everyone looked down at their padds, Chekov spoke up. “There is Barber’s Planet, Captain. It would be only small diversion for the ship.”

Kirk was unsurprised the navigator would be able to come up with a place without having to look up the information on the computer. “Barber’s Planet? Never heard of it – what’s there?”

“It is an ice planet, sir—”

“Seriously Pavel?” Sulu cut in. “Why would anyone want to spend their leave on an ice planet?”

“We have snow always in Russia, Christmas Day. It is, for me, good memories of home.”

Sulu glanced around the table at the look on everyone’s faces, and grinned. “I think you’re on your own on that one.”

Kirk privately agreed with Sulu. Despite having grown up enjoying Iowan winters, he had formed a mild aversion to ice planets. “Thanks Chekov, I’ll bear that one in mind. Any other ideas?”

“What is your definition of ‘appropriate’, sir?” Spock asked.

 _Anywhere I could take you,_ he thought. Aloud, he said, “A place that’s seasonable but has a broad appeal.”

“ _Seasonable_?” Uhura repeated incredulously, her eyebrow arched.

Kirk grinned at her. “If it isn’t a real word, it should be.”

“Might I suggest the planet Aurora, Captain?”

“Aurora? I’ve heard of it…” He tried to remember why it sounded familiar.

“The planet is located in the Theta Leonis system,” Spock explained, “and is therefore in proximity to our current heading.”

Ah, now he remembered. “Right. It’s an ex-mining planet that a Federation consortium took over some years back. They made it a recreation center because it’s so close to conjunction of busy shipping lanes.”

“Indeed. It is a type-L planet of limited scientific interest which has long been popular as an informal tourist stop due to substantial aurora activity. Che Industries leased the planet and have constructed vast environmentally-controlled centers at both poles that cater to diverse tastes in ‘entertainment’.”

Kirk mentally pictured Spock putting inverted commas around the word ‘entertainment’ and smiled. “Sounds perfect.”

“Oh wow,” Sulu said, staring at his padd. “According to FedWiki it’s got like a zillion restaurants – even Michelin a couple of Michelin three-stars – and there’s a huge theme park at the south pole plus—”

“Great,” McCoy cut in, rolling his eyes. “We can all gorge ourselves on gourmet food and then go throw it up on a roller-coaster.”

“—it has a golf course that apparently rivals St. Andrews,” Sulu added.

“Golf?” McCoy said, suddenly perking up considerably. “Let me see that,” the doctor said, grabbing Sulu’s padd. Now it was Kirk’s turn to roll his eyes. His friend had tried – and failed – to get him interested in the game while at the Academy.

“St. Andrews is the best golf course on Earth, and that’s a fact,” said Scotty. “I’m not just saying that because it’s in Scotland. If it’s even half as good, doctor, I’ll play a few rounds with ye, and might even stretch to buying you a bevvy at the nineteenth!”

“If no-one has any objections,” Kirk said standing up and bringing the meeting to a close, “I’ll put in the request with Pike.”

*

Aurora, Kirk decided with a degree of awe, certainly lived up to its name. They could see the effect from orbit, looking like a shifting splash of color that capped the planet’s poles. But it was way more spectacular looking up from the surface, as he stared through an observation window at the incredible display outside.

“So if there was more argon, krypton or xenon in Earth’s atmosphere, we’d get all these colors on Earth, too?”

At Spock’s invitation, they were spending Christmas Eve in Aurora’s museum, currently in the section that detailed the physics and chemistry behind the planet’s unusual solar activity, which prompted the question.

“Captain—”

“—Jim.”

“Jim,” Spock repeated, blinking slowly, which Kirk was fairly sure was tantamount to an eye roll, “there is a certain inefficiency in asking me questions, the answers to which are already contained in the museum's exhibits." To make his point, he indicated a nearby display that used lighting fixtures to demonstrate the colors different gases emit when electrons are passed through the tubing.

Kirk grinned, having wondered how long it would take Spock to point that out. “I prefer hearing it from you – I enjoy learning from you.”

Spock studied his face for a moment, and then nodded once in acceptance.

“Okay, here’s one that’s not described anywhere here. What’s that?” He pointed to what looked like a bright star high in the sky. He knew it couldn’t be a star because Theta Leonis wasn’t a binary and there were no other stars of sufficiently great magnitude that could account for such luminosity in that sector of space.

“That is the 1474468P/Horowitz-Wang periodic comet, one of three thousand and forty seven that orbit the local star. It is named for two Terran miners stationed here earlier in the latter half of the last century who were amateur astronomers.”

Kirk wandered over to one of several small telescopes in the area and using the screen beside it, pointed it at the astral object.

“Huh, yeah. Now I can see its tail. Cool!”

This shoreleave typified the last three for Kirk, with his plan to spend time with each of his two closest friends. It usually amounted to doing something ‘cerebral’ with Spock, followed by bar-hopping with McCoy, with neither of his friends showing the least inclination to join in the other’s activities.

As they strolled around the museum, even though the interactive exhibit looked fun and interesting, Kirk continued to ask Spock questions about the aurora display, listening to his Science Officer explain the physics responsible for the light show – he could listen to Spock’s sonorous voice all day. _And all night._

They spent over two hours at the museum before they had to leave to meet up with Sulu, Chekov and a few of the crew at a nearby bar. 

“You know, you’re very good at explaining things,” Kirk said with a wink as they exited the museum. “You should consider teaching.”

There was that slow blink again, making Kirk smile. “I estimate it will take seven point three minutes to reach the drinking establishment selected by Lt. Sulu.”

The fact that Spock knew Kirk was teasing him, and chose not to rise to the bait, made his smile widen. 

The complex was filled with beings from all over the Federation – and as bustling as the busiest starbases. In a nod to Earth’s holiday season, many of the retailers, restaurants and bars displayed ‘Happy Holidays!’ signs and decorated their establishments in thousands of twinkling fairy lights. The effect, Kirk thought, was decidedly gaudy.

The bar turned out to owned by a Terran, so the place was decorated with all the season's trimmings including a plastic Christmas tree replete with twinkling lights, a menorah in each window and copious amounts of fake mistletoe hanging from the ceiling.

Their arrival was greeted with cheers from his crew, and mindful of Spock’s sensibilities, he ensured the two of them kept to the periphery of the group to give the Vulcan space. He timed their visit so they’d only have to stay for two drinks before they needed to leave for their dinner reservation. Offering to buy a round brought forth another cheer.

Drinking on an empty stomach, the alcohol went straight to his head, so he was feeling decidedly merry by the time they needed to leave. Spock had booked the restaurant and was being very mysterious about it – no amount of questioning had brought forth any concrete answers on the Vulcan’s choice of eatery. So when they got outside, Kirk grinned and waved his arm in an exaggerated flourish.

“Lead on!”

As they walked through the commercial center of the complex –he found himself hugely curious to see what sort of place the Vulcan had picked.

 _The Aurora_ was tucked away at the bottom of a dead-end thoroughfare at the far end of the retail area, standing completely on its own away from the other restaurants. It wasn’t the most original name and left Kirk wondering whether the food would be equally lacking in imagination. The thought vanished as Spock stepped aside to allow him through the door first, and after ascending a short escalator, he found himself standing in a huge transparent aluminum dome. The structure gave a perfect of view of the aurora as it shimmered over the north pole, giving the viewer the very realistic impression of stepping outside. It was a feat it would have entirely accomplished, had not his brain supplied him with the data he’d just learned at the museum, reminding him that the Aurora’s air was unbreathable to most humanoids and the outside surface temperature of the planet its northern pole was currently sixty two degrees Celsius.

Craning his neck up, he slowly turned as all around him, an ever-changing vertical strata of colors danced across the winter-dark sky like billowing curtains in a gentle breeze. It looked different to the ones he’d occasionally seen in Iowa: for a start it was far more vivid, and along with the more prevalent reds, greens and yellows he’d seen generated by Earth’s oxygen and nitrogen elements, there were occasional flashes of pinks, purples and oranges caused by the high concentration of noble gases present in Aurora’s atmosphere. It was a stunning sight.

Kirk slowly turned three hundred and sixty degrees, wondering just how much this dinner was going to cost. “Wow!”

“Indeed.”

Looking at Spock he grinned at the ready agreement, but before he could add anything, a bot appeared and beckoned them to follow it. It took them down a curved tunnel which descended to a subterranean level that Kirk could see ran in a big circle, much like the corridors on the upper decks of the _Enterprise_. When it paused at a doorway which slid open for them, Kirk indicated Spock should go first, purely so he could ogle his First Officer’s ass, currently shrouded in tight, black pants. 

There was something inherently sexy about Spock – his lithe body, his graceful movements, his incredible intellect, his superhuman strength – all wrapped up in a parcel that was more closed and private than anyone he’d ever met. It was, Kirk thought, an absolute sin that Spock should have such a fantastically fit and drool-worthy body and not share it with anyone – he was 99% sure Spock hadn’t dated anyone since breaking up with Uhura a year earlier.

Walking up a small ramp, the two men found themselves in their own mini transparent dome, and with the aurora flashing all around them in a dazzling array, all less-than-pure thoughts vanished.

“Awesome, Spock!”

Kirk took his eyes off the spectacle to take in his surroundings. They were in one of a series of domes that were fanned out either side of them in a semi-circle around a main hub. Each one appeared mirrored, as theirs presumably did to others, ensuring maximum privacy – something he could see appealing to Spock.

Their dome was slightly sunken, with a hip-high wall running two thirds of the way round, the final third having the window down to floor level that looked out over the barren, rocky plain outside. It was faintly illuminated by the aurora, its dancing light arcing overhead and spreading out across the dark sky, almost to the horizon. 

Inside, the room had dim lighting at floor level that cast a subtle illumination over the sparse furniture in such a way as not to detract from the atmospheric display outside. Other than a table, the only other items were a two-seater couch and coffee table near where they were standing.

A particularly bright wash of color seemed to transfix Spock, as the more familiar red, green and gold were interspersed by violets, oranges and blues, and where the lights overlapped, a whole host of other colors appeared. They hung, unmoving, like a gigantic curtain of light, on the horizon. Then, as though an invisible hand had run along it, it began to twist and dance. The lights on the horizon, he noticed, were easier to view than those directly overhead, the whole set against the vast, twinkling backdrop of the Milky Way.

Kirk was utterly mesmerized.

“This was a great choice, Spock,” he whispered, his voice holding a tone of reverence. He didn’t care if it cost him a year’s wages, it’d be worth it.

Spock inclined his head in acknowledgement. “I am gratified it meets with your approval. Jim.”

Kirk felt as though his name had been appended, but the fact that Spock used it without prompting made him smile, which widened when he spotted a tell-tale crease of the Vulcan’s eyes.

When he’d first met Spock, he would have described him as having a stoic: expression – his facial features largely immobile regardless of the situation. Two years into their mission and he was much better at reading Spock’s tells: the subtle changes such as a slight quirk of the lips, the degree of elevation of one or both eyebrows, the tilt of his head, even the speed of his blinks; all communicated to him now, just as loudly as the words Spock said.

Kirk became a ‘Spock-watcher’ almost from the first. At the start, it was because there was something about the Vulcan which drew him, which fascinated him. It was more than his ‘otherworldliness’; part of it was what Ambassador Spock had told him about the friendship he’d shared with his Kirk in his universe, but there was something else, too, that he’d never been able to define. They were unusually in tune with each other, their individual strengths complementing one another, fitting together like the old clichéd hand in glove. But more than that, there was a _rightness_ to them being together.

As the Vulcan watched the lights, Kirk kept half an eye on him, watching for reactions to the beautiful display, the shifting lights casting an eerie glow over his sallow skin. Having gotten so used to the Vulcan’s features he rarely gave them any more thought than those of the humans on his crew, but now in this otherworldly landscape, Spock’s alienness suddenly seemed to jump out to him, Kirk’s eyes roving over the upswept brows and the pointed ears.

Spock turned his head and their eyes met and held in silent communication. He felt the intensity of the moment and just as he felt a flush began to creep up his face, his stomach rumbled. The moment broken, he suddenly realized he was famished, having skipped lunch to get all his work out of the way before beaming down with Spock.

“You are hungry.”

“I’m fine. No hurry.”

“It is illogical to delay our meal when it is our purpose for being here.”

“True! And I guess it’s kind of distracting when my tummy keeps rumbling.”

“It is a relief to know that seismic activity was not the cause of the noise.”

Kirk grinned at his first officer. “Spock! Are you teasing me?”

Spock’s most stoic face gazed back at him. “Certainly not, Captain.”

The response made Kirk laugh out loud as he took his place at the dining table. Spock’s very dry sense of humor was something that had only surfaced in the past few months, and he enjoyed it immensely, especially when it was aimed at him.

“How many times have I told you to call me Jim when we’re off duty?” he asked as he scrolled down the electronic menu.

“To date, one hundred and forty eight times,” Spock replied solemnly as he sat down opposite Kirk.

Kirk laughed again. “And here I thought Vulcans were supposed to be a quick study,” he teased back. 

Spock merely raised an eyebrow to his grinning captain.

Kirk was enjoying himself immensely, especially seeing Spock this relaxed. He’d learned early on that informality with his commanding officer didn’t come easily to Spock, even in the privacy of one or the other’s quarters. Having studied Vulcan culture and history at school and the Academy, he knew something of the hierarchical society Spock grew up in, where formality and tradition were by-words. So seeing Spock willing, on occasion, to humor him made it all the more special. 

For a time, Kirk had believed that Uhura was the only person Spock was willing to ‘let in’. But after the events with Khan, Spock became more open with him. It was over a quiet chess match in Spock’s quarters that he began to talk about his home and his childhood. For months after the Nerada battle, Kirk avoided mentioning Vulcan until Spock told him he’d noticed. He’d explained that far from bringing back painful memories, talking about Vulcan-that-was, was a way of keeping it alive for him.

After turning their attention to the menu and inputting their choices into the auto-order, Spock looked up, over Kirk’s head, to watch the display, while Kirk watched Spock.

“Did Vulcan have an aurora?”

“Affirmative. A most active one since Vulcan was located in a binary system, resulting in considerable solar winds. In addition, the planet possessed a liquid core that produced sufficient convection currents to create a stable magnetic field. The result was almost continuous aurora activity over its poles, although the dominant colors were blue and red, since there was a lower concentration of oxygen in Vulcan’s atmosphere compared to Earth, with the resultant green aurorae being somewhat rare.”

Kirk leaned forward, folding his hands on the table. “So, did you ever get to see them yourself?”

“I did, every summer. My father owned a home close to Vulcan’s south pole where the family retreated during high summer, as my mother was unable to cope with the heat in ShiKahr. Going there provided an additional comfort to her, since Earth was visible in the sky to the naked eye at that latitude during the summer months, if one knew where to look – as she did. It was during my youth, studying the nocturnal sky with my mother that I first gained an interest in space, eventually leading me to apply to StarFleet.”

“And the rest, as they say, is history,” Kirk smiled.

“Indeed,” the Vulcan acknowledged, his face softening into an almost-smile.

Spock sharing such a personal memory warmed him. It really was a treat to have Spock to himself like this, away from the constant interruptions of the ship. The majority of the crew may have been partying it up at the ‘Pleasure Centers’ at the south-pole complex, but he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else than here, right now. He felt a bubble of happiness at sharing this magical experience with his first officer and friend on Christmas Eve.

Kirk could only hold the gaze for a few seconds before he broke it to look up at a shimmering swirl of green that flashed across the sky like a giant le-matya leaping toward its prey. Kirk shook his head, wondering what part of his subconscious had conjured up that particular image.

Their meal arrived shortly after and they ate in companionable silence. Kirk was famished and finished his first course before Spock had gotten halfway through his. He slowed down through the second course and by the time dessert arrived, he was full-enough that he didn’t need to consciously watch his pace.

The food helped take away the light-headedness from drinking on an empty stomach that he’d been feeling since leaving the bar. But along with his meal, he polished off a bottle of wine on his own, together with two shots of brandy. It left him feeling more than pleasantly buzzed.

Placing his napkin on the table, Kirk got unsteadily to his feet and picking up the brandy bottle and his glass, walked over to the couch in front of the window. Placing the bottle and glass on the coffee table, he sat down, feeling the couch mold to his body. Having a hunch, he leaned back into the seat and smiled as it reclined, a foot rest lifting to accommodate him in his new position at a forty-five degree angle. From here he could comfortably gaze both out towards the horizon, and upwards above his head at the brightly-colored sky.

“Awesome!” he grinned. Swiveling his head, he glanced at Spock still seated at the table watching him. “Are you going to stay over there?”

Holding Kirk’s gaze, Spock tilted his head, as if in consideration, then with a nod, stood up and strode over. There was something about Spock’s gait – a gracefulness and an economy of moment – that captivated Kirk.

Even though neither of them could be described as anything but slim, the couch turned out to be what Kirk would call ‘cozy’, there being mere centimeters separating them. Heat from Spock radiated up the right side of his body, making him super-aware of the Vulcan.

“Would it kill you to relax and recline?” Kirk asked after minute of Spock sitting rigidly beside him.

Spock gave him a look that told him wouldn’t dignify the question with an answer, making Kirk smile, which widened as the Vulcan pushed back and they were now lying side by side. Not usually slow on the uptake, Kirk realized rather later than he would like to admit – only because he wasn’t in that space here with Spock – that the couch was designed to convert fully into a small bed. They weren’t on the fully-reclined setting, but it would still be easy to roll over and wrap himself around the Vulcan. The thought sent his body buzzing, a gentle fizzle of arousal making him hyper aware of Spock’s proximity. He needed to take his mind off this, so focused on the swirling display all around them, with green, red and gold eddies flashing across the firmament. And in amidst all of it, was the comet he’d noticed earlier, twinkling brightly.

“Wow, this has to be the most awesome Christmas lighting in the galaxy! It’s perfect, Spock.”

“I am gratified that you are enjoying it, Captain.”

They sat together in companionable silence for several minutes. But the trouble was, Kirk had never been any good at sitting still, finding it almost impossible to switch off his thoughts. So, all too soon, the present intruded once again.

“I wonder if everyone’s having a good time,” he said, his words echoing his train of thought.

“Captain?” Spock asked, turning from the view towards Kirk, his face quizzical.

“I was just thinking out loud, hoping the crew are getting a chance to let their hair down. It’s not Risa or Wrigley’s – something slightly different.”

“Indeed. However, while it may be incumbent upon you to select a suitable location for shoreleave, you are not responsible for your crew’s experience of it. They are each accountable for their own entertainment.”

McCoy was often on his case, saying much the same thing. He smiled at Spock. “Was that your convoluted way of telling me to stop worrying about them?”

“It was.” Spock paused, then added, “Captain, I find myself concerned with your welfare. Your eating and sleeping patterns are not optimal.”

Kirk shrugged and turned his head to look up at the lights. “I appreciate your concern, but it goes with the territory.”

“In addition, your performance has dropped by 6.5%.”

Kirk looked back at Spock, frowning. “In what way?”

“Your response times are slower, you are taking longer to process reports and you frequently show signs of fatigue while on the bridge during routine periods.”

“I keep yawning,” Kirk translated.

They looked at each other for several seconds, Kirk mesmerized by the dark eyes and the concern that shone from them.

“Jim,” Spock broke the silence. “You have asked me to repeat information I have given you verbally on seventeen point five occasions in the last twelve weeks. In the previous twelve months, you asked me twice.”

“Point five?” Kirk asked, smiling.

“On one occasion, when you asked me to repeat the coordinates of Delta Ceti, you stopped me after the first two digits, stating you’d ‘got it’.”

Kirk turned back to stare at the sky and after a beat said, “Can you see shapes in the lights? I swear one looked like a le-matya.”

“When we returned to Earth after the Battle of Vulcan,” Spock continued, “I found myself preoccupied with my mother’s death – if I had reached out to her faster I could have saved her; if I had placed her on the inside of the ledge beside me, she would not have fallen; had I led them faster from the shrine, we would have transported to the _Enterprise_ before the ledge collapsed. Nyota provided me with useful advice. She told me to ‘let it go’. While I was fully aware of the illogic of such futile thoughts, I appeared unable to stop them.”

Kirk recognized Spock’s ‘confession’ for what it was: a tacit encouragement to speak, to unburden himself. He needed a drink and sitting up, the chair followed him. With an unsteady hand, he poured brandy into his glass and knocked it back into three gulps, feeling the satisfying burn as it went down.

Putting the glass down, he leaned back, feeling the seat go with him, until he was staring up at bright flashes of blue swirling overhead.

“It’s been hard since our mission to M-113,” he finally admitted out loud, and it was a relief to say it, even though he still felt the familiar ache in his chest, saw the faces in his mind’s eye of the crew he’d lost, felt the responsibility of it weigh him down.

“I’m split between a rational and emotional place about it all. The rational tells me it’s not my fault we beamed up a salt-vampire. We did everything by the book, everyone who signs up to the ‘Fleet knows the dangers, yadda, yadda, yadda. And yet… I keep remembering their faces, Kinsella at her wedding on Aldeberan, Jones at that karaoke bar on Starbase 12 singing _Lady In Red_ and turning out to have a really godawful voice! Lua’a when he—”

“Jim.” Spock spoke his name softly, at the same time lightly touching the back of his hand that lay between them.

Kirk swallowed around a lump in his throat, not daring to look at Spock in case the tears that had gathered in his eyes overflowed. All this had been building for the past twelve weeks. “Remember that mission to Qo’noS, you said you chose not to feel. How can _I_ choose not to feel, Spock?” he whispered. “How do you do that? I know it’s not healthy to carry this around. I’ve had to be strong, not let what I’m feeling show and somehow in the suppressing of it, it’s made it worse. You know I’ve had trouble sleeping, my mind going at a mile a minute. The trouble is, with modern medicine, we don’t have to deal with grief much anymore – most folks live to old age. They tell us Starfleet’s a dangerous occupation – we all get shown the stats before we sign up. But knowing that and experiencing it are different, especially when you know it’s your decisions that have led to those deaths—”

“ _Enterprise_ responded to a distress call from the research base on M113,” Spock reminded Kirk. “Your decision to divert there cannot be faulted. Sensors failed to pick up the existence of the salt vampire. If anyone is to blame, it is I for failing to calibrate the sensors sufficiently—”

“It nearly got you!” Kirk suddenly said, verbalizing one of the horrors that he’d taken away from that day.

“However, I survived as a result of my Vulcan physiology. I regret terminating its life.”

The scene was still vivid in Kirk’s memory: walking into Spock’s quarters and finding the creature cornering his First Officer. Spock was distracted by Kirk’s entry – the Vulcan concerned for his captain’s safety – and in that moment, it had taken advantage and attacked Spock. Kirk had immediately reacted to the unexpected sight, cursing his lack of phaser, by using a wall comm to call security. Not getting what it needed from Spock, since his Vulcan blood lacked the salt it sought, it turned towards him and had him transfixed when Spock killed it with an ancient Vulcan dagger that had been on display in his quarters.

“It nearly got you,” Kirk repeated, reaching out and pressing his palm against the Vulcan’s chest. “I can’t lose you, Spock. I _need_ you. I…” He stopped, realizing what he had been about to confess.

“Jim,” Spock said quietly, covering Kirk’s hand with his own.

The touch caused a burst of love-lust-arousal to flare through him and Spock’s eyes widened as he felt it through their contact, pulling his hand rapidly away as a result.

It seemed to Kirk like he’d barely blinked and in that time, Spock was standing a few feet away from the couch. The shock of it all made the room spin and brought on a wave of nausea.

“I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

“Captain, I suggest we return to the ship.”

Kirk struggled to get the seat upright, the movement bringing on another wave of nausea. Making it harder was the fact his body and limbs wouldn’t cooperate as the brandy, added to his previous drinks finally took its toll. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…” No, he wasn’t going to deny how he felt, but he knew he should apologize for pushing it on Spock. Finally managing to get to his feet, his stomach seemed to settle, though his balance remained precarious as he faced the Vulcan. “Spock, I’m sorry. You didn’t need to know my shit.” He could feel himself flushing.

Spock held his gaze, his face for once unreadable, and nodded once. “We should return to the ship,” he repeated.

By the time Kirk had fumbled to get his credit chip out, Spock had paid and was standing by the door waiting. Kirk took one look up at the sky, at the beautiful aurora, which was currently mostly a shimmering green and red. _The color of our hearts,_ he thought before pulling his attention away and unsteadily following Spock out the door.

*

Kirk woke the next morning to dim lights in his cabin, his pounding head and uneasy stomach reminding him just how much he had drunk the night before. Lying on his side, he cracked his eyes open and they alighted on the small Christmas tree he’d put on a shelf, its red and green twinkling lights reminding him of the incredible evening he’d shared with Spock. But his stomach roiled again when he suddenly remembered how it had ended.

“Goddamn fuck!” he groaned, clapping a hand over his eyes as if that would help him blot out the memory.

“Jim—”

“—What the hell?” Kirk said, sitting bolt upright at the sound of Spock’s voice from his office, and immediately regretting it as the room spun and his stomach reacted queasily.

“You will find an antidote to your hangover beside your bed.”

Stunned that Spock was in his quarters, apparently _watching him sleep_ , he called the lights up to fifty percent – he didn’t think he could handle more just yet. Turning to his nightstand, he grabbed hold of the hypo that lay next to a large glass of water, stabbed it into his upper arm, feeling the relief of his worst symptoms almost immediately. “The ship?”

“Nothing to report, Captain. We remain in orbit about Aurora. Also your… _our_ shore-leave continues for a further three point four hours.”

“So why are you here?” 

For the first time, Kirk took in the fact that Spock was sitting at the seat he always did when visiting Kirk in his quarters. He wasn’t in uniform, instead wearing a maroon tunic – so whatever this was, apparently it wasn’t official.

“I was concerned for your well-being, Captain, as you consumed considerably more alcohol than on previous shore-leaves that I have witnessed. In addition, I wished to speak with you.”

Kirk groaned inwardly as he grabbed the water to flush out his dry and disgusting-tasting mouth. It took three gulps before he noticed it tasted sweet and holding it up, stared at it with a frown.

“What’s in this?” That was a safer question than _what did you want to talk about?_ because nothing good would come from _that_ conversation.

“A number of vitamins and supplements not contained in the standard veisalgia shot.”

“Huh.” It warmed him to think Spock was looking out for him, especially after last night. He’d barely finished the water when his lower stomach started cramping. “Uh…I need to go freshen up, excuse me.”

Fifteen minutes later, when he stepped out of the shower stall, he caught sight of a pair of jeans and teeshirt, neatly folded, sitting beside the wash-basin. As there were no briefs, he pulled on the jeans and slid the teeshirt over his head, before turning to the basin and giving his teeth and mouth a thorough cleansing. By the time he was ready to return to his cabin, he was feeling a hundred times better than when he’d woken up, and was ready to face whatever it was Spock wanted to say – assuming he was still in his quarters.

He was. 

Running his hand through his wet hair, he dialed up a black coffee and a nutrient bar from the synthesizer. Plopping himself down on a seat on the other side of his desk, he forced himself to look at Spock. Catching the dark brown eyes, the earnest expression, he felt a flush creep up his face. “Look, I’m sorry about last night—”

“There is no need to be.”

“There is,” Kirk countered, picking up his coffee. “What I did could easily be construed as sexual harassment.”

“Only if the advances were unwanted.”

About to take a gulp of coffee, he paused the cup a few inches from his mouth as his jaw went slack. “Wait…what?” He stared at Spock incredulously, wondering if he was hallucinating.

Spock raised an eyebrow. “You appear to be laboring under a misapprehension.” Kirk put his cup back down, feeling confused, wondering if he’d misheard. Spock held his gaze and added with emphasis, “Jim, I reciprocate your regard.”

All he could do was gaze, wide-eyed at Spock, his heart hammering wildly in his chest. “You do?” He realized his mouth was gaping and closed it. What did ‘reciprocating your regard’ even mean to a Vulcan? He had no idea as he tried to tamp down on a rising euphoria.

“Indeed. However, given your inebriation last night, I believed it would be prudent to wait until the effects of the alcohol intoxication had passed.”

His stomach in turmoil that had nothing to do with his earlier hangover, Kirk held his breath and nodded for Spock to continue.

Spock looked down at his hands, clasped on the desk. “While we both submitted official reports, you and I have never spoken of the events surrounding Khan from a personal perspective. As you are aware, when you were dying, though I had chosen not to feel – indeed I had previously accepted my own fate with complete equanimity – I was unable to control my emotional response—”

“—You cried,” he cut in, wishing Spock would look up so he could see his eyes. “It was the last thing I saw before…”

“Indeed. When I believed you lost, I became emotionally compromised. I was prepared to kill Khan to avenge your death, and would have, had Nyota not intervened. I then compromised my own standard of ethics, my integrity, by agreeing to Dr. McCoy’s plan to resurrect you using a sample of Khan’s blood. While you remained in a coma, I spent all my off-duty hours at your bedside, unwilling to leave until I knew your recovery was assured.”

Kirk was close to speechless at Spock’s confession. “You were there when I woke up. I thought it was just a coincidence,” he admitted.

“The events forced me to acknowledge the importance of your place in my life, to accept the degree of my regard for you. Nyota also recognized it. We continued our relationship for a further two months, but finally mutually agreed to part. She was, angry – deservedly so.”

“Wow, I had no idea your break-up was because of me.” He genuinely felt bad about that because Uhura had become a good friend. Now that he thought about it, not once since those events had she given him any idea the difficulties between her and Spock were to do with him. He already held her in high esteem – now it went one notch even higher.

“You are not to blame, Jim. Culpability falls to me. Last night, I became aware – as you would say – that the feeling is mutual.”

Kirk couldn’t hold back a grin and began to reach across the desk but then thought better of it, and left it lying between them. Remaining firmly seated, he waited for Spock to tell him what all this meant, or what he wanted, if anything, to do about it, but Spock just sat there.

“You’re going to have to give me something to work with here. Do you want to take this further? I mean, I’m human…I have _physical needs_ but I don’t know how Vulcans – or you – express that.”

Spock stretched out his hand towards Kirk. Extending his first two fingers, he stroked them across the back of Kirk’s hand beginning at the wrist, sliding to the tips of his own first two fingers. Spock’s higher-than-Human temperature couldn’t account for the way his own skin heated up, the touch like burning.

When Spock reached his fingertips, he turned his hand over, allowing Spock to stroke down to the palm. It was when he slowly began to move back up that Kirk finally cottoned on, his mind slowed by long-held desire and lust, as he held up his hand, two fingers extended.

As their fingertips touched, Spock’s eyes fluttered closed, while Kirk sat mesmerized at the sensual display. When Spock finally opened them, they were as dark as Minoan onyx. The intensity of the gaze took Kirk’s breath away and he was lost. Without saying a word, utterly in synch with one another, they stood up together, meeting at the end of the table and coming together in a long, sensual kiss.

Clothes fluttered to the floor as their hands and mouths explored each other’s bodies, the pair moving to the bed when the need to get horizontal became overwhelming.

Kirk made love to Spock with a fierce hunger, relishing every touch, every taste of the Vulcan’s lithe body with an intense craving he thought could never be sated. It being their first time, the intensity of the encounter proved greater than his ability to hold back as finally they arched together in a gasping, shuddering release.

“Wow,” Kirk said, lying in the cradle of Spock’s arms as they faced one another.

“My sentiments also,” Spock replied with a small quirk of his lips.

Kirk chuckled as his hand traced the line of Spock’s jaw, feeling the slight rasp of stubble as he moved it up his cheek to caress a pointed ear, then ran his fingers through the silky strands of Spock’s hair.

The lights of his Christmas tree cast a red/green glow over Spock’s face, bringing to mind the previous evening.

“Last night – that restaurant – was awesome and unforgettable – for so many reasons. Thank you.”

“You are most welcome. And I believe it is tradition to wish you a Merry Christmas, Jim.”

Kirk grinned and got up to lean on one arm, gazing down at Spock who was looking utterly sexy, lying naked in his bed. “Merry Christmas, Spock.” He gave the Vulcan a lingering kiss. “May it be the first of many.”

“Indeed. That would be my preference also.”

Kirk smiled, but then his expression turned contrite. “I’m afraid…I uh…don’t have a gift for you.”

“Jim, rest assured you are the only gift I could wish for.”

 

[finis]

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